


at least I'm trying

by CrazyMistahJ



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyMistahJ/pseuds/CrazyMistahJ
Summary: Different takes on life from some of Gotham's most famous citizens and how they try to move forward
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 40
Kudos: 41





	1. Bruce

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 needs to be read while listening to This Is Me Trying by Taylor Swift and The Brothers Mourn from the Godfather pt.2 soundtrack.

On the dark days, Bruce wonders what he is still doing it for.

He has no friends. He has no blood family to speak of besides Damian and he barely thinks of him as his father.   
His only real companion is Alfred, an elderly man.

It scares him to his core to know that one day Alfred will die and he will be left all alone in the world. Poor baby Brucie all over again with no one who truly loves him. There are moments when Alfred looks at him and Bruce can see the aching emotions in his eyes. The knowledge that one day, this fight will kill Bruce. The bittersweet, paternal love he feels for this man who is his surrogate son. The regret that he never had his own life.

Each day the Penguin and the Black Mask carve their territories a little deeper into Gotham’s bones. Each day the city becomes more corrupt, more violent, more hungry as it swallows up citizen after citizen with it’s never-ending, ravenous darkness. Oswald Cobblepot is old school; he has been in power since Bruce’s parents were alive, but Black Mask is new. The Roman Sionis he met as a boy has transformed into a vicious, power-hungry, money obsessed crime lord that Bruce fears (no, he knows) he is unable to stop. Bruce knows it is pointless, but he cannot help but feel that he has failed in a way that he did not manage to see this coming. Could he have helped Roman as Bruce Wayne? Seen through the false face he presented when they were children and warned someone about the man Roman was becoming? He will never know.

He often lies awake on those nights when he is not working, the mania of those he fights keeping him up. The Riddler’s obsessions, Harley’s dangerous codependency, Poison Ivy’s violent crusade against capitalistic humans, they all have a special little place in his nightmares. He desperately hopes for a night when he can drift off into a dreamless sleep. He knows that deep sleep, the kind that his body fervently craves, will not come to him unless he is dead.

The Joker haunts his nights most of all. The Clown Prince of Crime will never let him go, not even at night where Bruce’s mind should be his own dominion. 

Bruce is not the religious type, but he cannot help but pray that Gotham will never find out about the time the Clown kissed the Bat. Each time the image flicks through his dreams, he wakes up in a cold sweat with a guilty curl of heat in his gut.

“Batsy, batsy, batsy. So informal. Don’t I get a little kiss?”  
And just like that, the Joker darts forward, presses his lips to Bruce’s and stabs him through the cheek with a switchblade at the same time.

Bruce had reared back, clutching at his face. The Joker’s hyena-like chuckle, merciless and child-like, had burbled through the air.  
He knows that as long as he keeps his one rule, the Joker will continue his reign of terror over Gotham. Bruce will keep trying to pin him down and the Joker will keep slipping away, like he always does, with a wink and a grin.

Bruce hates himself for being so fucking weak that he lets this one man have such control over his city.

He knows that this way of thinking is pointless. Yet some days, it is all he can do.  
He will carry on. He knows he must carry on. He is his city’s dark knight. They deserve to have a hero they can believe in. A watchful protector.  
He will carry on, despite the dark days.


	2. Harley & Ivy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is meant to be read while listening to Sleep Forever by Portugal The Man and Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Frank Sinatra.

When Harley first appeared at her door, beaten and bloody and desperate for respite, against all her better judgement, Pamela Isley chose to let her in.  
Against her better judgement, she poured a warm bath for her. Cooked for her. Made up a bed for her. And then did it over and over again, each time Harley crawled back to her.

It’s funny, she thinks, what we do for love.

Oh, she was fully aware that she was awkwardly in love with Harley. She knew that it was pointless to care for this woman. Harley has eyes for no one but her Mr. J.

“He loves me. I know he does, Red. He just gets…. Angry. Really angry. And I can’t do anything to stop that.”

“Yes, you can Harley. You can leave him. You can go anywhere; do anything you want. You are so smart and capable. You can strike out on your own, be your own person!”

“I’m better off with him. He gives me protection. I get immunity from people like Penguin and Roman Sionis.”

“Yeah! What about immunity from him! He doesn’t love you!”

Harley had stormed off after that argument. She wouldn’t hear another word against the Joker. Ivy had not seen her again after that. When it came to Harley, silence was one of the worst things you could be receiving from her. Either she had turned against you, or something was horribly wrong.

As the weather turned icy and the slush sunk into Gotham’s concrete, Ivy couldn’t help but feel that she had done something wrong. She remembered her university days when she had wondered about her life and had been optimistic about her future. She had a double-major in botany and biochemistry and she had felt like she could take on the world and win.

The men on campus had proven her so wrong about that. They had shown her that she couldn’t win in a world where the elite took the cake. So, she’d made herself strong and used her plants to poison the lives of every man who had ever thought to screw with Poison Ivy.

She’d thought that her own experiences made her uniquely gifted to help Harley. Apparently, there is no experience, no matter how shitty, that can help you convince a woman to leave a psychopathic clown.

She looked for Harley everywhere, afraid that she would find Harley’s corpse, afraid that Harley would kill her for disrespecting her Mr. J. That thought had chilled her for a moment, before her resolve to find Quinn warmed her again. She’d started her search at the Iceberg Lounge.

“I just want to know if you have any idea where she is Oswald. I don’t want money.”

“That’s good to hear, Ives because you wouldn’t be getting money either way. Why should I tell you where she is? What’s in it for you?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might just be concerned for a friend?”

Penguin had laughed at that. A devilish smirk had stolen across his face.

“I thought you two were more than friends. Perhaps I was wrong. Very well. Since you and I are on good terms at the moment, I’ll let you know where one of my boys last saw her. She was heading with that freakshow boyfriend of hers to the Black Mask Club.”

That was no good for Ivy. She couldn’t even think of going to Roman’s territory. He had ordered her face peeled on sight. Turns out when you steal chemicals from the Black Mask, he doesn’t take too kindly to it.

She scoured the rest of Gotham’s underworld for the next two weeks, hoping for some sign of her. She had always hated winter in Gotham, when the little bit of green in the city was gone, but this blizzard was one of the worst they’d had in the past decade, the snow falling like a blanket over the dead ground. The macabre gargoyles that perched atop Gotham’s roofs were shrouded in snow, making her feel even more that they were watching her and the rich yuppies were all wearing fur and driving cars that polluted the earth, ravaging its goodness.

She gave up her search on the winter solstice. Harley wasn’t planning to show herself; she was either too wrapped up with her Mr. J, or she was dead. Ivy didn’t know which option she preferred.

It was on Christmas Eve that Harley returned to her in the most unlikely fashion.

She had been sitting quietly, nursing a cup of tea in her apartment and consulting her notes on her latest project, when her front door was unceremoniously burst open. There, in her doorway, was the Bat. Cradled in his arms was a battered and bruised Harley.

“She needs to be with you. The Joker threw her out of a window. If I took her to a hospital, it is possible he would send someone to kill her.”

All anger at having the Bat break down her door again evaporated. All her bloodlust toward the Joker surged to the surface.

“Don’t kill him, she would never forgive you for that. I believe that she absolutely must leave him, but she must decide that on her own. However, I think that knowing someone as strong and independent as you will help her towards that decision. You want her to make good decisions, anyone would want that for the person they love.”

With that he was gone, leaving Ivy and Harley in the apartment together. Ivy smiled down at Harley, an ache in her breast that had been building up over weeks finally bubbling over. The snow falling outside her window caught the light from her lamp and for the first time in weeks, Ivy felt peace.

“Welcome home, baby. It’s nice to see you again.”


	3. The Riddler and The Penguin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recommendations for this chapter are Amy Winehouse's Back to Black and Wake Up Alone.  
> Trigger warning for mentioned drug use. I do not support the abuse of drugs, this is a work of fiction.

The Iceberg Lounge was the place to see and be seen. Anyone who was anyone wound up here to people-watch, drink their worries away, gamble with the high-rollers and dance ‘till their shoes wore out.

In Edward Nygma’s case, he was here to drink away the pain of his recently failed heist.

He hadn’t been able to leave his bed for the first three days after he had crawled back to his apartment after his fight with the Bat. He had been too busy screaming into his pillow about why he had to leave clues, why he needed the attention of the insipid, dull masses and why the Bat was always able to beat him.

On the fourth day, his brain had apparently decided that being tormented with constantly wondering why he had failed wasn’t enough, he was going to start hallucinating his parents and bullies from his childhood as well.

It was moments like these when he wondered why he was still alive. Why he hadn’t just taken a little too much cocaine and slipped away from the world for good.  
At the end of the week, he realized that if he wanted to shut his mind down, the answer was not to take stimulants. He needed alcohol.

So, he had dressed in one of his best suits and slouched off to the Iceberg. He always enjoyed going there. The drinks were well-made and the music was always top-notch. And, of course, Oswald would be there. 

He had a fondness for Oswald. He always made a note to slide into the proprietor’s booth and chat with him for awhile. It tended to be the only intelligent conversation he got.

Oswald had a tendency to look for Edward at the Iceberg after seeing the Riddler’s heists in the headlines. Whether he had succeeded or failed, he tended to turn up. If he had succeeded and was therefore flush with cash, he would tend to pick out a couple and give them drinks on the house. If he had failed, he drank himself into a stupor.

The moment he saw Edward enter the bar; he knew that something was wrong. Ed was slumped over, drawn and looked as if he had lost weight.

The most alarming thing about him was the way he appeared to be jonesing. Like he really wanted cocaine.  
He knew that Edward would occasionally take stimulants to expand his mind and construct his puzzling plans. But he had never seen him crave it. He was appearing to crave it this evening.

He hoped dearly that Ed would come visit him this evening in his booth. He so wanted to talk to him, to see if he could help him.

To say that he looked upon Ed with affection would be an understatement. He considered Ed’s visits to be the highlight of his month. When their knees brushed under the table, he would consider Ed’s visit one of the highlights of his year.

He knew that Ed wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way. He knew he was a high-functioning alcoholic. He knew that he was fat. Neither of these things were likely to change anytime soon. But he wanted to believe that Ed appreciated their little talks. 

Ed shuffled over to the bar and slid onto a stool. A waitress was in front of him in a second.

“Your usual, Mr. Nygma? Mr. Cobblepot has said that your drinks are on the house?”  
“No. Get me a bottle of vodka. Do let Mr. Cobblepot know that if he wants to charge me, he can. I’m going to be here a damn long time.”

The startled waitress skittered away and returned shortly with a bottle and a shot glass. Ed vaguely appreciated the way the blue lighting caught at the bottle. It made the noxious liquid appear far more enticing. The light also accentuated the mirrors on the backdrop of the bar and he saw Oswald looking at him. He knew that Oswald wanted to talk to him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to Oswald though. Maybe after a few more shots, he’d gain the desire to speak again.

Oswald was his only friend. He was keenly aware of this. Oswald was the only one who even tried to understand him, to think the way he did.  
He hoped that Oswald felt that he understood him too. Understood the excruciating loneliness that came from being different. Understood the need to prop himself up on a substance.

Maybe if he took a few more drinks, he would talk to him. He looked like shit. Oswald wouldn’t want to walk up to him.

As the night dragged on, Oswald kept on looking over at Edward. He’d downed at least a quarter of the bottle and showed no signs of slowing. He turned back to his own drink and sighed.

“Hey Ozzie.”

Oswald’s head snapped up. Sliding into the chair opposite him was the good doctor, Harleen Quinzel.

“Evening Harley. What brings you here?” 

“Oh, you know. Red and I wanted drinks. This is the only place that is truly safe for people like us. But most importantly, I wanted to talk with you.”

Oswald motioned to the nearest waiter to bring Harley a cocktail and immediately scanned the room for Poison Ivy.

“She’s at the bar. And anyway, I’m not here to talk about her, I’m here to talk about you and Edward.”

Oswald froze at that. Harley had often given him knowing looks whenever Edward was in the room, but he had never taken them seriously. Had he really been so obvious?

“I know you care about him Ozzie. I know that you can see that he is craving stimulants right now and is using alcohol to shut his mind down so he won’t crave them. He needs you right now. Let him stay with you.”

Oswald was taken aback by this outburst. It took him a moment process what was said and collect his thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I’ll go talk to him near closing time. I’ll see what he wants.”

Harley offered him a sad smile.

“You do that Pengy.”

Edward was nearly done the bottle. The room was swaying and the music was echoing eerily in his head. He was vaguely aware of person approaching the bar.

“You! Bring the car around. Phone Olga and tell her to get another bed made up at my penthouse. We are going to have a visitor this evening.”

Oswald scooted onto the seat next to Edward and gently clasped his hand.

“Edward. You’re hurting. I can see that. But you don’t have to hurt alone. I have room for you, would you like to stay with me.”

Edward turned to stare at him, while his brain registered what was said. Then feeling a tear roll down his cheek, he whispered.

“Take me with you, Oz.”


	4. Arkham Asylum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter is idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish and Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Snow blanketed the ground outside Arkham Asylum and all was, for once, quiet. It may have been a silent night that night, but winter at Arkham was never peaceful. The place was notoriously chilly and was more understaffed than usual, especially at night. Christmas especially was eventful. Something fantastical happened each year, including one memorable year when the Joker escaped on a rocket-propelled Christmas tree.

This year, the Riddler had decided that he would jazz up the season.

He had somehow gotten computer privileges and hacked into the Asylum’s mainframe. On each of the 12 days leading up to Christmas he had pulled a different prank, leading up to when he let all of the inmates out of their cells and had begun blasting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

Jervis hadn’t minded the entertainment. It was always interesting to watch Dormouse enact his Christmas schemes. He had minded that it had gotten Eddie locked up in solitary confinement and because Jonathan was there too, there was no one to spend time with.

He missed Jonathan terribly. He so hated when he was away. The only thing he hated more were his sessions with Dr. Leland.

It wasn’t that Dr. Leland was so bad, it was that she thought that he was insane. She stated that there were no such thing as alternate realities.

“Jervis. I firmly believe that you could make progress and be reintegrated into society as a useful citizen. You are a gifted neuroscientist who could make many powerful contributions to science. You have successfully moved on from your obsession with Alice and have bonded well with both Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane. But you do yourself no favors by refusing to acknowledge your mental illness. Denial helps you not at all. I can help you through that, but you won’t let me.”

“A dream is not reality, but who’s to say which is which?”

Leland had removed her eyeglasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose at that. She always got that way when he quoted Mr. Carroll.

“You must see that I am doing this for your own benefit. Nothing that I am offering you will harm you.”

“People who don’t think shouldn’t talk. You have never thought about my benefit. Alice helped me. Dormouse and March Hare helped me too, but you have locked them away!”

“I think we will conclude our session now, Jervis. The guard will escort you to your cell.”

He had been dragged back to his cell. This worked in his favor, as he now had time to think about the idea Dr. Leland had given him. If the Arkham goons had locked away his friends, he would have to take it upon himself to free them. That would be to his benefit.

He knew he would need help. So, he found himself edging toward Poison Ivy during lunchtime.

“What the hell are you doing Hatter? Aren’t you supposed to be in the corner, muttering little rhymes to yourself?”

“I need your help Ms. Isley.”

“Well, that isn’t something you hear everyday. Why should I help you?”

“Spirit of the season? I want to get Jonathan and Eddie out solitary. I know that Ms. Harley is suffering now too as she has been hurt terribly by her beau and refuses to come out of her cell or eat. When we get Jonathan and Eddie out, we can get her out too.”

This clearly struck a chord with the Green Goddess. This plan clearly appealed to her.

“I have to say, Jervis. That really sounds tempting. But I can’t do anything unless I have access to a plant and I get off this medication for at least two days. Can you help me with that?”

“I think I can. Thank you, Ms. Isley.”

“This isn’t for you, wack job. This is for Harley.”

Finding a plant would be easy for Jervis. He was allowed to participate in cooking activities and it was child’s play for him to slip a piece of broccoli into his pocket and then slip it to her as they passed in the hallway.

Getting Poison Ivy off of her medication would be a lot harder. She was checked each day to make sure she had taken it, because it suppressed her powers. As a high-security prisoner, making sure that she was docile was a top priority.

The first day proved easier than he thought because Roman Sionis had been recently incarcerated at Arkham and within the first couple of hours he had spent at the asylum, he had already caused a riot. This meant that all prisoners were locked in their cells and Ivy missed her check. She just passed the pills to guard she hypnotized with her reviving pheromones who gave them to Jervis.

Arkham liked to think that they had good security. But anyone who was incarcerated there knew that security in the winter was rather lax. Once Ivy had hypnotized the guard, all Jervis had to do was use the power of suggestion to make sure that her medication wasn’t delivered for the second day.  
On the night that the break was due to occur, Jervis faked sleep until he knew that the guards were gone and then waited for the tap at the window.

Turns out the tap on the window wasn’t so much a tap, but more like a screech as the bars and glass were ripped away and Poison Ivy sailed towards him and extended a vine.

“Hop on, Hatter. We have some friends to find.”

Jervis climbed onto the vine and they swooped towards the solitary section of the super-prison.

They first found Jonathan. He was curled up on his cot, staring at the opposite wall. Jervis edged closer to the bars and whispered.

“Jonathan. It’s me. I’ve come to get you out.”

Jonathan rolled over and Jervis watched his eyes fix on the window in shock as he saw Poison Ivy behind him.

“Jonathan, please. We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get Eddie and Harley.”

Jonathan nodded, and hopped onto the vine that had been extended towards him. They pulled away and drew towards Nygma’s cell. As they approached the window, all of them gasped. The sight that they beheld was awful.

Edward was in a straitjacket on the floor with a mask strapped to his face that was clearly intended to stop him from biting. The worst detail was the bruises and cuts that covered his face.

He’d clearly been beaten. Multiple times.

“Ms. Ivy. We need to go in there. We need to check on him.”

“OK. I’ll drop you two in here while I go get Harls. Make sure he’s still alive.”

Jervis and Jonathan slipped through the window into the cell. Jervis reached down and removed the mask from Edward’s face. Ed turned his head to face them, but he still refused to speak.

“Eddie. We’re going to get you out. We’re going to try and escape. How does that sound?”

“No.”

Jervis and Jonathan looked at each other in shock. What did he mean, no? This was Arkham. When there was an opportunity to escape, you took it.

“What do you mean?”

“What I said. No. I’m going to stay here and I’m going to get out of solitary within the next two days. What the fuck’s the point anyway? You’ll just get caught by the Batman.”

Jervis opened his mouth to say something, but Jonathan caught his arm.

“Lets just go, Jervis. There’s no point in reasoning with him. Ivy will be back soon.”

Jervis cast one last sober glance at Edward and then turned with Jonathan to hop on the vine that Ivy had extended towards them. There was no Harley with her.

“No luck, Ms. Isley?”

Ivy was clearly trying not to cry and was chewing her bottom lip.

“She’s not coming,” she said tightly.

They moved efficiently through the grounds, Ivy using the now readily available plants to speed their movements. They were almost at the gate, when a shadow swooped down from the sky.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The Batman stood before them, his cape and cowl slick with snow.

Jervis, Ivy and Jonathan stepped forward.

“We’re leaving! For Christ’s sake, can’t you see we aren’t being helped! Edward is lying on the floor in solitary confinement with a mask strapped to his face and he has clearly been abused. You can’t stop us!”

Batman threw a gas grenade and Jervis instantly felt sleepy.

“I’m afraid, you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

The next morning, Jervis woke up with a headache back in his regular cell. It was admittedly a shock to him that he hadn’t been placed in solitary. It was even more a surprise to see that Jonathan was sleeping in the bunk below him. He crept slowly down the ladder so that he wouldn’t wake him and that was when he saw the letter on the floor.

“Hello Jervis  
I have spoken to the warden about the abuses at Arkham. Due to this, you may now share a cell with Jonathan and Edward will be released from solitary and regain visitor privileges. Oswald is very upset that he can’t go see Edward more regularly. The guards who have been abusing inmates will be fired. Ivy will also be allowed to share a cell with Harley and they will attend group therapy together.  
You will however have to try and progress with your treatment with Doctor Leland. It’s for your own good.  
Batman”

Jervis smiled at the letter and moved over to the bottom bunk to nudge Jonathan awake.

“Come on, my dear. Breakfast will start soon.

Arkham was peaceful that day. The Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter went to breakfast together. On the women’s side of the Dining Hall, Poison Ivy was trying to tempt Harley Quinn into eating something. The sun streamed in through the windows, a rarity for winter in Gotham. Edward Nygma had refused to eat, but there was a surprise waiting for him after breakfast.

“Nygma. There’s a visitor for you.”  
“Darling Edward. How have you been?”


	5. Selina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's playlist is Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and Love Theme from The Godfather Soundtrack. This chapter's timeline specifically falls into the Gotham TV show timeline.

She remembers the day that Bruce just left her.

No call. No real explanation. Just gone.

No word. No one to ever ask her how her life had been going.

Oh, Alfred had tried to look after her at first. He had let her stay at Wayne Manor, given her food and free lodging. She had hated every minute of it. The house was no longer a home for her, now that Bruce was gone.

So, she had packed up her limited belongings and moved on. She had gone back to doing what she was best at (stealing), but that didn’t give her enough money for her liking.

Then she learned how much men would pay for her to be their escort for the evening. Sometimes, the men would just want to take her out with them, sometimes they would want to take her home with them. Either way didn’t matter to her. All that mattered was the money and the access to their homes. That way she could come back in a week as Catwoman and take an extra “tip.”

The only time she had felt ashamed of her new lifestyle was when she had seen Alfred at one of the society gatherings she was at with her client.

She could feel Alfred’s eyes boring into her skull from across the room. He had always had the ability to do that. Finally, she could take it no longer and she excused herself to speak with him.

“Hello Alfred.”

“Miss Kyle. I do hope you are enjoying your evening with your new beau?”

“Let’s cut the crap here Alfred. We both know he isn’t my boyfriend, so why don’t you say what you clearly want to say?”

“Bruce wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

Selina was shocked. How could he say that to her? Knowing how horrifically selfish Bruce had been, just leaving the both of them here to hurt alone! The fact that all he could leave her was a note after all that had happened was the kick in the pants that had landed her squarely on the ground.

Despite her best attempts at getting up again, she never truly had recovered from the heartache he had brought her.

“Who gives a shit what Bruce would have wanted? He just left, Alfred. At least you got to say goodbye to him! All he left me was a note. All we had been through; all we had survived and he couldn’t even love me enough to say goodbye in person!”

“So, you did love him then. I always wondered.”

“Goodnight Alfred. I’m working.”

The years passed faster than she had expected. She aged, she stole more hearts and money and soon she became a staple of both Gotham’s high society and its crime world.

Then one day she glanced at a newspaper headline and a curl of fear crept around her heart.

“Oswald Cobblepot to be released from Blackgate in one week.”

She was one of the few who truly remembered how terrifying Oswald could be. She was one of the few who truly understood that he had never truly lost his grip on Gotham’s underworld.

Within a month of him getting out, he would be back in power. At least Edward had received a life sentence in Arkham. Gotham would never need to be held in the grasp of both the Penguin and the Riddler.

But something more alarming was being whispered through the Gotham upper class echelons.

Bruce Wayne was coming back to Gotham.

She didn’t know if she could stand if she saw Bruce again. She didn’t know what words that would pour out of her mouth.

Then, one night, when she was creeping through the Gotham museum to steal a priceless jewel, she noticed a shadow against the moonlight. Instantly, as if lightning had struck her, she knew that it was Bruce.

God. She didn’t know how the hell to feel about this. The only person that could have come close to understanding this feeling would have been Tabitha, but she was long dead. She sure as shit wasn’t planning to talk to Alfred.

She suffered and thought and worried all the way until she slipped into her gold encrusted gown and sailed off to the Wayne Gala.

After the Joker tried to attack the building, she managed to slip away and she was standing atop her favourite skyscraper.  
She knew he was behind her.

“You're there, aren't you? Do you have any idea what you did just leaving? You were all I had. And I know you wanted to protect me. But I didn't want to be protected. I wanted you. Say something. Say something.”

There was a potent silence as he analyzed what she had just said. God, she wished she was at home in her apartment with her cats and a mug of hot chocolate. Hell, she would have preferred to have been at the damn Iceberg Lounge. Just anywhere but here.

“There was no other way, Selina. I had to go.”

“So, what happens now?”

Her breath caught as she uttered those words. Christ, she almost didn’t want to know what he was going to say. If he even made so much of a suggestion that she should stop her lifestyle now, she was going to scream, to do something violent.

“I don't know. But I'll never leave Gotham again. Return the diamond.”

Well, that was a small comfort. Good old Bruce with his high-handed morals. At least he hadn’t really changed.

“Like hell.”

In the early morning hours, before the sun was up, Selina crept back to her little apartment and curled up in her ratty old armchair. She had had an exhausting night and she doubted that she could even get to her bed to sleep. She would just doze off here.

She would have if the phone hadn’t rung suddenly.

“Hello?”

“Hello Miss Kyle. Master Bruce just wanted to know if you enjoyed your evening at the gala, despite the uninvited guest?”

“I did Alfred. Tell Bruce thanks for a lovely evening.”


	6. Batman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big finale! This is my first multichapter fic, so I'm really happy with how it turned out.  
> The final playlist is My Way by Frank Sinatra and Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day

It’s moments like this when he feels hope.

When he returns another of the so-called rogues to Arkham in hopes that they will be treated.

But more often than not, he feels hope in the little moments.

When he sees the good work that Nightwing is doing in Bludhaven.

When Damian learns a new skill, or hell when he calls him dad. Being called dad is a blessed reminder that he is a father and those reminders are always welcome.

When Barbara passes on a crucial bit of information to him, or learns a new hacking trick on her many computers.

His bat family are the joy of his life. He had thought that people like him didn’t deserve families. But Gotham had decided to give him a shard of happiness mixed in amongst the pile of hurt it had also dealt him. With Alfred as his mentor and his children as his inspiration, he knows that he will always have new energy to combat the darkness that surrounds his city.

He also finds hope in some of the rogues. They may be his enemies and detrimental to his city, but he knows that they have potential to be productive people living peaceful lives, if only they were given a proper chance.

He sees this potential when Harley has the strength to leave the Joker. It shows that she knows that he is bad for her and that her life could be far more positive without him as an influence. God knows that Ivy wants the best for Harley and she truly wishes that Harley would leave her life of crime.

He sees this when Oswald nurses Edward back to health after one of his psychotic episodes. Penguin keeps him off the stimulants that addle his mind even more. Oswald’s tentative touches and flirtations with Edward also haven’t escaped Bruce’s attention. Good for them. A relationship would be a healthy experience for both of them.

Selina is a more complicated issue for him.

The Selina he knew growing up wanted to be good, but she knew that the world she inhabited wouldn’t allow her to be. The Selina he knew now, or Catwoman as she now liked to be called, wanted to be bad because it would enable the lifestyle she desired. While he knew that the cards had been stacked against her from the beginning, he wished that she had gotten to her position in life a different way.

He still sees potential in her though. He sees the beautiful, brave and defiant soul that she is and will always be. 

The only person he does not see potential for change in is the Joker. That man, if you can call him a man, will always be an engine of chaos, a blight on his city.

Bruce does not know if he will ever be able to fulfill his promise to his parents to rid this city of its deep-rooted corruption. But he knows that he will spend every day trying. At least he’s trying, he thinks.

He will never stop this fight.

The world has to be a better place when he leaves than when he entered it. The destruction that rips apart Gotham is partially his fault. He can pour his blood and sweat and money into making it better.

He is Gotham’s protector. Its Dark Knight.

He will never stop trying.


End file.
